


all beliefs your world will not accept

by ephemeralite



Category: Batman (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (woooooooo!), American Sign Language, Anti-Sokovia Accords, Banter, Civil War Team Cap, Complete, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Dimension Travel, Ethics, Fake Science, Gen, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Mild Language, Minor Violence, No beta we die like mne, Oh!!, POV Jason Todd, POV Steve Rogers, POV Tony Stark, Sibling Bonding, Sokovia Accords, Vigilante Justice, Vigilantism, big kids causing chaos time!!!!!!, did you know ao3 won't make that a tag, he's a greasy white rich man im allowed to do this, i do this for al and nobody else, if you like tony don't interact for your own health <3, it's simply better than cops!, lmao imagine hate-surfing tags, nothing graphic at all and not to any named characters but still, oh im gonna be REAL honest im dragging tony, sorry i keep updating i forget and reremember tags, specifically bc it would encourage hate, the bats are VIGILANTES . why on the gods' green earth would they like the accords, they get high a little but it's okay they're fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28232523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralite/pseuds/ephemeralite
Summary: "Are you fucking kidding me? Is this a prank? Are youstupid?".(Some people start off as vigilantes. Some people work towards becoming vigilantes. All of them hate the Accords. In fact, the only people whodon'tandbootlickersandboots.)
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Comments: 45
Kudos: 249





	1. it's worth a little blood to get your arms free

**Author's Note:**

> warning: i AM anti-tony and i wrote this directly in response to people writing about how the bat-people would approve of the accords. i know im late, i do not particularly care. if you wanna argue with me in the comments, that's fine, i think it would be funny, but it's YOUR time so beware.
> 
> second warning: every single step of this was done on my phone so if you see a typo that's why <3
> 
> anyways thank u for reading :)!!! work title's from your world will fail by less friction. chapter title's from machete by amada palmer
> 
> notes at the end to point out some kinda icky stuff tony does in this (nothing major, mostly subconscious language displaying bias against the girls + duke for not being white and men)
> 
> edit: I DIDN'T EVEN ADD THE BATMAN TAG??? NFNDND

"Are you fucking kidding me? Is this a prank? Are you _stupid_?"

"E-excuse me?" Tony Stark stutters, visibly thrown off track from his spiel about a government-backed suit of armor around the world.

The teen in front of him doesn't spare him another glance as he twists around to look at his comrades. They're lounging around the room, but they turn their attention back to Tony and the kid in the wake of his outburst.

"Rich people. They're all stupid, Red." The one in the skin-tight black bodysuit says. Tony feels a little miffed at being called stupid by someone who looks like they're wearing shrink-wrap, but the other vaguely-adult-shaped man is already speaking before he can formulate a snappy reply.

"Oh, says you? Mr. 'Regular Gala Attendee Since Age Eight'? Also, _I'm_ Red, quit giving Replacement all my damn nicknames." He rumbles, which feels really off-topic since Tony is trying to talk about optimizing the superhero business, something this world obviously participates in just as much as his does. Maybe the bickering could wait until, he doesn't know, fucking _after_?

"Little Wing, I grew up in a literal mobile home that I shared with my extended family who were solidly working class and were only able to put food on the table every day through a community full of anarchists who believed in mutual aid. Call me rich again and I'll make you eat leather." Bodysuit bares his teeth threateningly at the red-head, who can't reciprocate due to the giant metal helmet he's wearing, but somehow manages to convey the emotion of returning the gesture anyway.

The littlest figure in the room, previously silent, picks this as the perfect moment to speak up. Because it's not like anything _important_ is going on, right? "Replacement was rich." He sounds extremely smug, probably not in the least because the teen in front of Tony is already scowling back at him.

Bodysuit cuts both the teen _and_ Tony off to say, "He's growing out of it," with only trace condescension. 

Helmet snorts, before tacking on, " _Slowly_!" notably less kindly.

" _Whatever_ ," Red snaps, turning away from Helmet and the smug child, both. He goes back to looking at Tony like he's a science experiment. Truly, Tony feels ogled. "You want _government regulation_? For _people_? Why did you even become a vigilante in the first place?"

It's silent for a moment, which Tony belatedly realizes means that they actually _want_ him to speak, now. Everyone is looking at him, actually.

"What do you mean, kid?" Tony tries to sound confident, but he can actually _see_ the blonde girl roll her eyes behind her mask - which is fucking ridiculous, by the way, what are they even accomplishing with those? - so he probably... doesn't quite get there.

Instead of Red, the kid with the single brightest costume in the room speaks up. He's leaning into the faceless black figure reclined next to him, but his voice doesn't sound lazy at all. "Why are you doing anything, if you trust the government to handle it? What's your _point_?" Despite his relaxed posture, Tony feels pinned in place. His bright metal suit feels like nothing against the stare of that yellow mask.

"I'm helping people." Tony scoffs. It echoes around the room before landing flatly into silence. He's starting to really dislike this universe.

"Yeah, sure." The kid in the yellow scoffs back, once Tony has started to feel the need to fidget. "By exposing people less protected than you to systems that want to exploit them? Real helpful." 

"No one's being _exploited_! I'm sorry that _your_ government apparently isn't trustworthy enough to implement systems that actually work, but the Accords function just like they should _and_ respect human rights-"

Tony's impassioned speech is interrupted, unsurprisingly. This time, though, it's the dark figure the yellow - _glowing_? - kid was leaning on, whose movement is hard to track but ultimately leads to them standing right in front of Tony, shocking him enough that he cuts himself off, automatically.

"Lying," They say, simply.

Uh?

"There's no reason for you to just _claim_ that, you've never been to my world at all, what would you know-" He says - rambles, really, mindlessly as he tries to figure out what the fuck they know. About the Raft, the deals he cut - any of it.

"She doesn't need to know anything, dumbass." No one seems to be visibly talking, and the helmet is facing him again, so he hopes he's got the speaker pinpointed. He needs to know who to bitch back at. "You're projecting so hard I'm pretty sure Supes can feel it from three rooms away. Stop bitching at my sister, asshole." 

"I'm not bitching, I just want to be treated with enough respect to not be accused of lying with no basis in reality!" Tony summons his indignation up from the depths of his soul, willing himself to get going hard enough that no one remembers the topic of conversation in the first place. "It's not _my fault_ that your sister can't keep her mouth sh-"

"Oh, fuck off, you greasy old creep. Maybe stop trying to sell your shitty brand of fascism and _get the hell out of our universe_ , if you don't like it." The girl in purple snaps, suddenly stalking towards him. No one stops her, and when she levels with him, she punches him solidly in the jaw. The blow sends him careening backwards, his defunct suit making him stiff and unwieldy, leading to him falling onto his ass against the wall behind him.

While he's left wheezing on the floor, the group confers above him. He doesn't have the breath to cut in, which no one seems to mind.

"B said he wanted to pick his brain for potentially useful information, but he gave me the boomtube in case we needed to throw him back on short notice," Bodysuit muses, sounding pensive. He hasn't moved from his place across the room, either, like the entire ordeal of Tony is barely worth his attention. It makes an unfamiliar discomfort prickle across his shoulders.

The kid in yellow peers down at him before turning his attention away, too. "I've made my opinion clear." Red nods from behind him, scowling at Tony from down his nose.

The littlest kid sniffs, sucks his teeth, and starts cracking his knuckles. The shadow hums in agreement.

From one blink to the next, Helmet is standing directly over Tony. His fist is a bit more intimidating than the kid's. Tony gets the distinct feeling he's about to get punched, again.

Over Helmet's shoulder, he sees the girl in purple holding a metallic box with notable menace. He doesn't really have the time to be scared - it's the last thing he sees for a _while_.


	2. i don't wanna know (if the feeling follows home)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An arrow? A fucking _arrow_? Can he _ever_ catch a break?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blessed (late) yule!! or christmas if y'all celebrate that ig
> 
> i was gonna just do this in one new chapter but this was more fun + i wanted to get it out today!!
> 
> chapter title from skeleton appreciation day in vestal, ny (bones) by will wood and the tapeworms!!! a mouthful but im lowkey obsessed w the tone vs content of this song right now

Bruce looks around the room. He knows, borderline instinctually, that it's emptier than it should be. The ghost of a migraine is hovering over his head, strengthening the longer he thinks about it.

"Hm," He says.

"He got sent back because he was an asshole and a fascist," Stephanie exclaims, arms waving in front of her like she's trying to preemptively ward off his ire. "The good news is that we _meant_ to send him back when we did, so we know where he went. Also, uh, where the Big Kids went." 

"BB _does_ have tons of Big Sister Energy," Tim muses. His face is wedged into the crease between couch and cushion, presumably hiding in horror from the present situation. Duke, who is currently sitting on said couch, looks only slightly incredulous. 

"What they mean is that Red Hood, Black Bat, and Nightwing were too close to the boomtube when it was activated and were... brought with," Duke clarifies, projecting both poise and exhaustion all while practically being mauled by his older brother. 

Bruce grunts. "And Robin?"

"He was stressed out, so he left to break shit you wouldn't yell at him over," Stephanie informs him, matter-of-fact.

He's _so tired_. "Thank you, Signal, Spoiler. Any idea how long it'll take to retrieve them?" 

Tim raises his head to squint calculatingly at Bruce, before his expression clears and he slumps back into his shameful cocoon. "Our tech needs to be calibrated to the asshole metal dude's universe so we can send out a check to make sure that's where they actually _are_ , then time for them to see and give a confirmation. That's about thirty-six hours, according to procedure. Everything after that depends on if they're actually where they're supposed to be. If they are, we'll probably have to spend about four hours purely dedicated to communicating plans and circumstances, and assuming _that_ goes fine, we can send over another boomtube while they wrap up and have them home in time for Agent A's solstice dinner."

Not any different than Bruce expected. Still, soul-draining to hear it laid out like that. He holds back a long-suffering groan; he was so _excited_ to have everyone home for the holidays.

"Let's get to work, then." As he turns swiftly to the door, a chorus of groans rise up behind him.

Like father, like children, it seems.

* * *

Jason wakes up with his head smeared into the dirt, which - is so deeply unpleasant, what the _fuck_. His hand is still clenched around... metal? Just, metal.

He's just holding, like, a red panel of metal.

Uh?

Oh. _Oh!_ He remembers, now. That annoying fucker in the suit.

He sits up quickly, less queasy than expected. He spots Dick and Cass beside him, ragdolled across the grass. They seem to be in some sort of open field. The pigmented red in his hand is the most vivid thing in sight, really.

Wait. Where the fuck's the metal dude.

Jason looks up quick enough to see the sunlight flare off of his back as he flies away. Not a word, damn. Well, their fault, really. Shouldn't have knocked him the fuck out if they planned assistance on _his_ turf.

Not that he expected to end up in _this_ fucked up world. Actually, now that he thinks about it, it's probably better they weren't friendly with him. He might have tried to _register_ them.

Okay, maybe he's a little distracted. Possibly a concussion.

Beside him, Dick starts groaning. Jason peers at him around the dirt caked on his face. After a truly insidiously flexible stretch, his brother pops his eyes open. He spends a long second staring at the sky, mindless, so Jason shuffles a bit to catch his attention.

When Dick looks over at him, he waves. Dick waves back. "Oh. We might have concussions." Jason watches Dick do a mental evaluation, before making a face and shaking his hand into a so-so gesture. 

Jason shrugs back at him. What can you do?

When he next turns to check on Cass, he sees that she's sat up without a word and is staring at him expectantly. 

"Morning, Cass!" Dick cheers. Cass smiles back at him, before continuing to look at Jason. She gestures to the metal in his hands.

Stupid, bright metal.

"He flew off. Ditched us and everything." Cass nods understandingly. He's kind of surprised she hasn't made them get up yet, actually. "Do you have a concussion, too?"

She laughs. ' _No_ ,' She signs, steady and graceful. When he makes an offended noise, she gestures gleefully to her bob. ' _Cushion_ ,' She signs, smugly. 

Jason groans, flopping back into the grass next to Dick. Staring off at the sky, he feels the adrenaline slowly fade away. Also, the sickly feeling of universe-hopping.

A couple minutes pass like that. Deep breath in; measure the counts out; repeat; evaluate. Probably not a concussion, he figures. Just adrenaline plus boomtube bullshit making him stupid. Smart of Cass to give them time to shake it off, then.

And Dick could already tell. Damn. Another point to Goldie, he guesses.

He heaves himself back up and suppresses a shiver. Now that he's moving off of the grass he already warmed, he can feel the winter chill. Ugh. Jason misses the adrenaline.

"Should probably check the equipment," Dick mutters, though he makes no move to get up himself. Jason kicks weakly at him before begrudgingly flipping on his wrist monitor.

It lights up when he activates it, which is a good sign! He holds the glowing screen up for his siblings to see, and they obediently clap and cheer quietly at his success.

A few more seconds of button mashing shows that it's stealing signals from some other variety of satellites - yay, this universe has satellites! - but there's no connection to any official Justice League or Batman frequencies. Unless there _is_ a Batman and his frequencies are fucked out of whack according to _their_ universe's protocols, they probably landed in the metal dude's universe, who had claimed that he was the only -Man superhero on the market worth noticing.

Again: an asshole.

It's as he's turning to his siblings to report his findings that they hear rustling coming through the tall grass around them. They must all still be affected by the boomtube, because no one has a chance to climb to their feet before there's - an arrow? An _arrow?_ Can he _ever_ catch a damn break with this shit?

There's an arrow pointed at his head and a man's voice shouting above them. "Hands up! Identify yourselves!"

_Motherfucker_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're a little bit high... call that boomtube bullshit
> 
> hopefully i'll have the next part out soon!! any guesses as to who found them? lmao
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading!!!


	3. now let me at the truth (which will refesh my broken mind)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can we do introductions, now? My mental monologue is fucked, trying to keep track of all of you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was like pulling teeth to finish this. why was this so LONG
> 
> absolute biggest rip to my witch!jaskier series that im supposed to be working on instead of finishing this way-longer-than-intended crackfic
> 
> chapter title from the cave by mumford & sons
> 
> anyways please enjoy <3

"I hate seeing kids in this shit, man." Sam is hovering with him at the back of the room. The place they're squatting in doesn't lend itself to privacy much, but Steve isn't particularly eager to let the newcomers out of his sight. It works out. "First, Stark brings in that Spider kid, now these guys show up out of nowhere? The therapy bills, they're gonna be through the roof."

"For them or _you?_ " He chuckles. Sam shoots him a dark look. Fine, fine. "They don't look _that_ young, at least. Not as young as the Spider, at least." This doesn't please Sam either, so he subsides. "We'll go easy on them, and if they ask for help we'll do whatever we can to give it to them, alright?" After a moment, Steve adds, "But if they work for Stark - you know we can't just let them go off and tell him shit about what we're doing."

"So we don't _tell_ them anything. No need for anything drastic," Sam argues. Steve nods easily enough, and they both tune back into the conversation happening in front of them.

Natasha is looming over the wooden table their _guests_ are sat at, with Clint leaned against the wall behind her. The newcomers are sitting there of their own will, but his team's being menacing enough that sudden movements feels thoroughly discouraged. Bucky's in his own corner, mostly to seem unapproachable without outright taking out a weapon. He doesn't like talking to strangers anymore, which is certainly more than fair. No one's sure these people aren't HYDRA, either, so the caution is best for everyone.

Scott and Wanda are out, checking for any signs of Stark, HYDRA, or any other sort of unwanted attention in the surrounding area. He's worried about being caught unaware while they deal with this, just in case it's a plot to distract them, so he's happy to have them out and about.

"Well, what do you want to know?" The lithe guy in the middle asks, all easy, as if he gets interrogated by world-renowned assassins every day.

"Where you're from, why you're here, what Iron Man has to do with it." Nat says, smooth and quick. She looks like she's strandling the knife's edge between angry and friendly, but Steve knows that's an act to make her targets give her more information to keep her this side of friendly; he's been on the receiving end of it, once or twice. Damned if it doesn't do the trick.

"Oh, is _that_ what he's called? I was calling him the metal fucker, honestly," The big guy in the metal helmet says. A little ironic, honestly. More importantly, though, is the questions that are conjured. Why do these American-sounding heroes - at least, they're _dressed_ like heroes - not know who Stark is? No one's been able to shut up about his heroic exploits for _years_. Why is he _holding a piece of Stark's suit_ , if he doesn't know who Iron Man is?

"Oh? Why so?" Natasha says, head tilted the slightest bit to suggest curiosity without pressure. It's an effective pretense, pretending that information is free to share and lying unnecessary.

" _Well_ ," Big Red Helmet starts, after glancing over his two companions. Neither seem to give him any signal, so he goes on unperturbed, "He came into our universe ranting and raving about introducing a 'suit of armor around the world' or something, like whatever he had done, presumably, to this one. It sounded like bullshit, but one of the littler birds was interested enough in his tech to give him a courtesy listen, unfortunately. Got real mad when he got called on his shit, though." He lays his cheek-area against his palm, adopting an innocent posture as his voice smooths with nonchalance. It would probably be very convincing, if he wasn't as wide as both of his companions put side to side and wearing gun holsters on each thigh. "He started giving BB-'' He gestures to the girl on the other side of the table, "- a hard time for telling the truth, so we had to send him home. Unfortunately, we were a bit too close to the 'tube when it went off, so we got dragged along, and do ya know that when I woke up it was to him hightailing it out without so much as a by-your-leave? Asshole behavior."

Steve blinks. He can feel Sam do the same next to him. That's... not what they were expecting.

And hard to verify. Motherfucker.

"Any proof of that?" Natasha asks, lightly. She doesn't immediately discredit them, but her lack of acceptance is meant to urge them to prove themselves, and in the scramble, hopefully make a mistake and reveal what's _really_ going on.

"We have," The young lady speaks up, for the first time, "tech." She makes an aborted movement with her hand that Steve recognizes as the start of a sign in ASL. He's not far enough along in learning to know more than basic signs, but he recognizes the purpose and fluidity from when Nat and Clint sign back and forth when they aren't going slow to demonstrate to him.

Natasha makes a sign back at her. Her back is turned towards Steve, but he can see the - BB? He can see BB perk up and sign in return. He doesn't catch much, other than the sign ' _more'_ , but he trusts Natasha to handle it.

"Advanced tech wouldn't mean much. We have plenty of shit going on that could introduce some fancy-seeming weapons onto the circuit." Nat signs as she speaks, which makes the dude in the middle smile. Steve notes that they've probably got some sort of personal attachments, if he cares about Natasha's consideration for his partners.

"Well, maybe not more _advanced_ , so much as advanced _differently?_ Maybe if you know vaguely what's new, we can compare it with what we have. It's bound to have evolved along unique paths, if the differences between worlds your Iron Man was talking about are true." Middle Guy says. He waves his wrist enticingly, where the light reflects the faint sheen of a matte screen nestled into his suit's cuff. 

Helmet snatches his arm out of the arm almost immediately. "They can take apart _mine_ , dumbass. They're gonna send a check-in to you before anyone else. If we don't respond they might scrap the calibration." Steve raises an eyebrow at Clint. Clint shrugs back, but he looks tense.

"Sounds like you've got people on your end, too." He comments, letting himself drawl a little to soften the suspicion into idle interest.

Literally everyone in the room is staring dead at them, though. Steve is sure they realize they've misstepped.

"We get tossed around the multiverse with a surprising frequency, so we have a protocol we can expect to be followed as they try to bring us back," Middle Guy says, sounding for all the world like an employee reading off an informational pamphlet, even as he yanks on his arm and kicks at his partner to get free. Big Helmet keeps facing forward as if he doesn't even notice.

"And you're bringing them here?" Clint asks, breaking Steve's distraction from the scuffle. 

"No," The lady says, signing as she speaks. "They will send us 'tube, and we will leave." She smiles beautifically at them. Beside her, the littler guy has resorted to trying to kick Helmet's chair out from under him.

Natasha stares at her, hard. The only noise in the room is the muffled thumping of the boys' fighting, which has yet to yield anything other than an unfortunate black eye.

Finally, Nat hums. "Let me see your tech."

* * *

Surprisingly, the tech examination goes slowly. It turns out that no one on either side is particularly well-versed in computers, apart from Nat and Clint's passable assassin-orientated knowledge and the lithe guy's weirdly specific expertise on how hardware affects software. They determine that the motherboards store and move information through different means affected by what materials each world originally focused on crafting them with, as well as the different glass mixtures prioritizing strength and flexibility, respectively. Steve's a little proud of what they managed to figure out, considering the general lack of experience all around.

When Clint leans back in apparent satisfaction over what they've found, the helmet dude's head pops up from where he had been slumping against the table. "Are you done? Great! Does this mean you'll stop leering at us suspiciously?"

Steve figured that if they haven't pinged Nat's Lying Sensor and her and Clint both can vouch for their adequately varied tech, then his team can probably trust their story. 

Clint seems to agree with him, because he snorts and nods through a yawn. Steve feels a flash of guilt - Clint and Natasha had been on lookout duty for most of the night before Stark's suit pinged them, and they've been handling most of the work with these three since then. The pair of them must be exhausted.

At his acquiescence, the lady and the smaller guy grin and Helmet smacks his hands together once before hooking his fingers under his chin and popping the helmet off.

He's got black hair, like his friends, though he sports a white streak they don't. He seems just as young as them, too. Steve's surprised to notice a matching domino mask over his eyes, as well. Talk about over-prepared.

Immediately, he's running his hands through his hair, shaking it out while groaning about 'helmet head'. It's a little sweaty, but the helmet must be well-ventilated because there's only a touch of it.

"Can we do introductions, now? My mental monologue is fucked, trying to keep track of all of you!" Lithe says, wiggling excitedly, now that the time for caution has passed. 

They remind Steve of puppies, really.

"I'm the Black Widow," Natasha says, taking lead. "You can call me Natasha. This is Hawkeye, or Clint." He waves cheerfully, before signing his name at them, too. When the lady grins, he nods to Nat and does hers, too. "That's Falcon, Wilson or Sam. Back there," Nat continues, pausing to give Clint time to sign, before pointing back to Bucky's corner. "That's Barnes." Clint makes his sign, the one for an owl with exaggerated twisting over his eyes and a mocking pout. Bucky can't see his face because Clint's back is to him, but he scowls for show anyways. It's part of their game. "And this is Captain America." She says. Clint gestures grandly as she finishes, "You may call him Steve."

The lithe guy snorts, before pointing at not-Helmet. "From left to right, that's Red Hood, I'm Nightwing, and this is Black Bat. You can call us Red, 'Wing, and BB." 

Sam hums. "No names?" He asks, lightly.

In sync, all three of them shake their heads. "We dunno if we exist in this 'verse, and the last thing we wanna do is expose their identities in a world that wants to _register_ people." Red sounds outright disgusted with the idea, though he doesn't look to be fishing for their support or watching them for a reaction. He doesn't even look towards his companions, though they nod in agreement anyway.

"That's what we're trying to fight against," Bucky says, finally moving closer. "Well, besides the Nazis." He comes to a stop on the wall near where Clint had been leaning before he moved over to the table. He looks less intimidating up close - more... mentally ill. Greasy?

Anyways.

Nightwing pauses. "Oh, that's true. You guys are the 'Rogue Avengers' he was talking about. He didn't mention anything about Nazis, though." As one, all three of them turn to peer at Bucky. That's probably his cue to step in.

"It's a long, convoluted story. We aren't going to force you to tell us anything, obviously, but the Accords aren't an issue with us, if that's your only concern." He tries to look friendly, which he has been reliably informed is easily done with his 'puppy-dog face'.

For the first time, he sees them visibly confer with each other. It's a lot of shrugging and tilted heads. 

Red Hood is the first one to turn away, before dramatically ripping off his mask. Steve starts to wince at the thought of adhesive giving him a sudden waxing, but it comes off easy and smooth. 

"I'm dead, legally, anyways, so it doesn't matter. I'm Jason!" He says, while stuffing his mask into a pocket on his jacket. When he sees the semi-shocked faces of Steve's team, he shrugs and says, "You gotta trust people who fight Nazis. If you don't punch Nazis you're a bitch and a coward," simply, like it's a logical line of thought.

Black Bat nods, like that's decided it for her, and pulls her mask off too. She doesn't go as dramatically as Jason, but she does put in a little flare. "Cassandra," She chirps, obviously proud of her name. Steve recognizes the tone from Bucky, on his good days. 

Clint grins and waves, eagerly, which she returns.

They both turn to look at Nightwing expectantly, who groans and looks up to the sky for deliverance. Jason kicks at him under the table, which only makes him groan louder.

"I'm gonna take the 'tube and ditch. I swear." He tells the ceiling. Jason keeps kicking him. "Fine. Fine!" Nightwing looks down, pouting dramatically at Steve and Sam's general direction before reluctantly peeling off his mask. "My name's Dick Grayson! Nice to meet you.

He can see Sam's head cock in bemusement next to him. Clint's eyebrows raise slightly and Natasha hums.

Bucky doesn't really react, which is how he knows that this isn't just a _him_ thing and is actually a _grew up a century ago_ thing. He hadn't noticed the nickname had dropped in popularity, honestly, though he can see _why_. It's certainly the same reason Nightwing didn't want to introduce himself by first name in the first place.

Jason snorts. "Oh, please, make fun of him. It's the best part of meeting new people together. Him and his crazy-ass parents' naming skills." He turns to look at Dick at once, a shit-eating grin firmly in place.

"Oh, leave me alone, asshole. Your parents pulled three basic names out of a hat and called it a day!" Dick riots. He's scowling very convincingly, which is only ruined by the fact that he's wiggling in delight, again.

Jason slams his hands down on the table in outrage. It doesn't actually bang very loudly, which is the only tell to the fact that _he's_ playing around. "You're just jealous people can say my name without covering their kids' ears, circus freak!"

Clint jerks backwards, startled, though neither of the boys notice. Steve can s _ee_ Natasha notice, and watches as she moves forward to intercept the argument on instinct.

Dick continues, oblivious. "You're just jealous I never taught you how to use the trapeze! If only you weren't so stiff, street rat."

He hadn't noticed Cass slipping away until she's standing between him, Sam, and Natasha. She faces perpendicular to them, so that she can keep everyone within sight. In a stage whisper, she says, "They are just playing. It is-," she makes a gesture, fingers hooked and pulling away from her other hand, "- stress-relief. That's all."

"Yeah. I would never call Dickhead that seriously - it would be cruel to all the kickass people from the circus who aren't him," Jason says sagely. Cassandra nods solemnly.

"I'm a crime-fighting acrobat? How is that not kickass? I _literally_ kick ass!"

"Your Uncle Vlad can swallow _swords!_ "

"My Aunt Diana is _Wonder Woman!_ "

* * *

Two days pass like that. Eventually, Steve calls Wanda and Scott back. Cass immediately takes a liking to Wanda, who doesn't quite know how to respond, which is deeply amusing and fun to watch, as everyone discovers.

Steve gets the impression that they've gotten word from their universe. They chatter amongst themselves a lot, crowded over monitors in their gauntlets or making fun of something on TV. It's funny to watch them, too - they poke at each other constantly, but fall asleep piled on the spare mattress together like personal space is a commodity they don't know to miss. It's... cute.

They're crowded around the TV now. Steve can hear them from where he, Buck, and Nat are trying to plan the move to the next base. He can't see them while his head is down working on the map, but the plan is almost done and all three of them keep pausing to eavesdrop on their guests. The news is on, some reporter talking about a woman facing time for killing her abuser. All three of the kids seem agitated to hear it.

"She was well within her rights. Man, I hate the fucking government." Jason tosses himself backwards onto the ratty couch, remote in hand. He crosses his arms angrily over his chest, grumbles under his breath as he flips through channels. Yet he avoids looking at either of his companions, like he's expecting them to argue.

"You're right," Cass nods. Jason's head whips around to face her in shock, which seems to surprise her. "What?"

"I thought you guys were all 'anti-death' or whatever. 'No one has the right to decide to end another person'?" He asks, disbelieving.

Cass makes a face. "No, not quite. It's like... Me and Dick have talked about it." She turns to Dick beseechingly. "You explain it better."

Dick hums. "I've had, like, a decade longer to think about it." When Cass doesn't stop looking at him, he sighs. "I'm sure you can recite why B doesn't kill just as well as I can. We aren't him, though. We've _grown up_ as vigilantes, we see it differently, we form different opinions on it. Me and Cass - quite a few of our siblings, actually, have different opinions on murder. You'd probably know that if you ever spent time talking to _us_ instead of arguing with B all of the time."

Jason scoffs. "Like you're any better with him."

"I can multitask." Dick raises an eyebrow at him, and Jason rolls his eyes back. "Anyway. We're raised in Gotham, we know the kinds of things that can make someone turn to crime: a shitty government, no food, no medicine. You know as well as anyone else."

Jason nods reluctantly.

"But some people are also just _cruel_ , and they'll do whatever the hell they want no matter what changes. And our function in society, as shadows that drop down from the sky and kick the shit out of people - it's not conducive to telling one from the other. You can't tell who help will improve and who it won't. But... There are other scenarios, people who aren't in the same position as us, times when _we_ aren't in that position. Like, for instance, that lady _knew_ she couldn't go to the cops, and she knew she couldn't leave, and she knew he wouldn't stop unless she _stopped_ him. She did what she had to do." Dick shrugs. He looks at the TV, gathering his thoughts.

Jason looks like he's being given the one thing he's always hoped for. In the silence, Cas slips her hand into his and gives it a squeeze. Steve sees Jason's arm flex as he squeezes her hand back, tight.

"When Blockbuster was threatening my... _everything_ , I knew he wouldn't stop. I knew he would do anything, whatever it took until he was happy; he would never be happy. I didn't kill him, but... I made the choice. I might not have chosen right, but I was the only person who _could have_ chosen, the only one that knew, that had the power. Jay, if you saw something tomorrow that told you the Joker needed to die, immediately - we would trust you. Bruce might not, but _we_ would. Cass, Steph, Tim, me." Dick finally turns back to Jason, leaning forward with severity.

Jason nods again, this time speechless.

"That is a family-majority," Cass says severely, though she can't hide the small quirk of her lips the sentence brings.

It's silent for a time, before Jason speaks up again. "You guys have been sitting on that for a while, huh?" His voice is steady, but his fingers are white where they clutch at Cass.

"Well, if you'd leave B alone long enough to fit a conversation in, we might have got it across sooner," Dick teases, easy and casual. Lightning-quick, he steals the remote from his brother with a cackle.

"Hey, Dickhead, I had it first!"

"You should have been fast enough to keep it, _kiddo_!"

Cass laughs at them both, and they all collapse back into one another, bonelessly. The channels on the TV flicker rapidly, but no one seems to be paying them any attention.

Steve turns away from them, and Bucky and Nat use their Russian assassin training to pack up their maps and slip out of the room silently. The whole encounter felt long-time-coming, which is not something _any_ of his team is eager to interrupt.

* * *

It's only later that same day that the smell of ozone seeps into the air. Cass and Jason's heads shoot up immediately, scanning the room eagerly. Dick's Nightwing suit gives out a loud ping and they scramble up like it's a gunshot for their race.

Jason socks Dick on the leg repeatedly, who snaps awake halfway through kicking Jay into a broken arm.

Jason doesn't blink, just rushes out, "Get in your suit! Incoming!" Dick is on his feet and rushing into his gear at once.

Steve's team is left blinking in their dust. Wanda turns to Cass, who is mysteriously already almost completely suited up while her brothers struggle with boots and tight pants. She gestures to her own wrist monitor, then mutters "Boomtube!" which everyone has come to realize is the tool for universe travel _their_ universe has that Steve's has never heard of.

More specifically towards Wanda, she says, "We will be leaving very soon. It was... _nice_ , to be here. A good break from patrol!" Cass smiles at them, as her brothers rush over, Dick handing her a mask as he applies his own.

"We will be sorry to see you go!" Wanda says, genuine despite her bewildered handling of Cass over the last few days. It makes Cass break out in a bright grin as she pastes her mask over her eyes.

In moments, there grows a feeling of electricity in the air, snapping and cracking around everyone's movement. Then, just as quickly as it came, it vanishes, leaving only the supposed boomtube nestled in Dick's arms.

"Here, take this!" He rushes, shoving it into Jason without so much as a by-your-leave before he's hunching over to check over it's wiring behind a concealed panel. Jason lets out a startled huff before adjusting and holding it steady. It doesn't take long before Dick is hissing " _yesss!_ " and typing out a hurried message on his monitor.

"Good to go?" Cass chirps, peering at the 'tube herself. She's bouncing slightly on her toes, surprisingly similar to Dick, standing right next to her and wiggling more aggressively than Steve has ever seen him do.

"Looks like it," Jason nods, bending down to set the 'tube on the ground. He turns to Clint and Sam, sitting on the couch nearest them, to say, "You might wanna back up a bit. The whole reason we're even _here_ is because we were too close the first time. It's been cool and all, but I kinda don't wanna do it again, no matter who's displaced.

Once Sam and Clint have scrambled back a sufficient amount, Cass gives them an excited wave goodbye. Jason shoots off a crooked salute while Dick finishes calibrating the 'tube to his tech. Then, Dick turns to them and cheers, "Bye! See you never again, hopefully! Keep fighting Nazis!"

They begin dissolving into blue light immediately. Steve's relieved to see that none of his team seem to share the effect, and will presumably stay within their own universe for the foreseeable future.

As their imprints fade from silhouettes into vague shapes, they hear a young shout, "Todd, Cain, Grayson! You're back! You simply will not _believe what_ Drake has been doing since you left-"

And once again, they are alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dick: we have the boomtube!!! POGGERS
> 
> narrator voice: it was, indeed, very pog
> 
> the one thing i have to say abt this is that dickie WIGGLES when he's excited and you can take that from my cold dead hands
> 
> oh also i used some ASL here!! it's vague seeing as steve doesn't quite know it and half of it is done subconsciously, but if i handled it wrong please tell me!
> 
> if y'all see a mistake, feel free to comment! if y'all would like to comment for some _other_ reason, please do; it's the quickest way to make me willing to die for you!
> 
> thanks for reading y'all!!

**Author's Note:**

> some stuff: tony refers to duke, stephanie, and cass as kids and girls when realistically he should be calling them teens, youths, young adults, ect. ect. just as he does for tim. he also disregards dick's commentary due to the fact he's in a tight suit, which. yeah. this isn't a reflection on my beliefs nor something i did unintentionally!!! i just think tony would be That Guy.
> 
> thank you for reading!!


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